Parallel Universe Part2



A Short Story to go with your coffee

Ian who had made it to the door was greeted with.

‘Hello dad where’s my mum!’

Accusation or statement it was hard to tell. Ian’s mothers face was trying to catch up with her thoughts and she looked down at me with accusations and miss understandings flying from her eyes like a blame seeking missile.

Sophie stood there and you could almost hear the cogs turn her thoughts. Her face set on questions and connotations made as her grandmother was taking in how she could best manipulate the situation to her advantage.

Meeting each other for the first time, Granddaughter squared up to Grandmother both looking as though they were choosing their weapons. Sophie had the advantage as her defence could be used as a weapon. Somehow I pitied her grandmother but not enough to stop the shoot out, after all I had a ring side seat.

Because of my daughter there were a few things I would’ve loved to ask and never would, a lot I wanted to say but couldn’t, sometimes the sacrifices are hard as a mother. I was hoping the long talks we had had about my other life and finding her farther gave us a good foundation of understanding each other. So as the battle began my fingers, legs and toes were all crossed.

Francesca stood with her indignant upper-class distain oozing from her face and her passive aggressive nature turned to max. Sophie visibly braced herself, not with the teenage angst of earlier that morning but a growing experience supporting her strong determined youthful face. It was Francesca’s undoing to try to intimidate my daughter. Choosing the love of a new family as her weapon of choice was a silly mistake and Sophie rebuffed it, she wasn’t going to miss something she never had, now was she! But her attach on me acted more like a sharp boomerang she was incapable of catching.

‘Why has your mother never bothered to tell us about my granddaughter?’

Ian moved forward to deflect the verbal blow, but Sophie held up her hand to them both, new dad and auntie she was in this fight on her own. I held the cushion ready to duck behind, this was not going to be pretty I could tell by Sophie’s locked jaw and the intent stare the hunter was about to be hunted! Thrilling and sickening all at the same time, I waited with heart pounding.

‘The day my mum found out she was pregnant with me she came to you for support. She had just found your son in bed with her look alike’ Oh that hurt, I could feel the rebound from all three of them. The brutal truth hit them all at once. As they came back from the recoil she metaphorically hit a left jab thrusting and lifting their upper jaws to a pursed lip position.

‘My mum could have pleaded for you to listen, but you, without a thought, told her your son was better off without her. Her pleads would have been futile.’ Ian looked over to me; I hadn’t put it quite so brutally. Did he deserve the truth? Well Sophie thought so.

‘If she had asked for help’ her voice was now grown up and authoritative as though she was some psychologist reporting on an issue. ‘She would’ve been beholden to you’ calmly each statement was delivered. ‘Your disrespect brought about you being ostracized from me, at least until my mum thought I could cope with the rejection.’

‘I would never have rejected you.’ Pleading and appalled played to perfection for the most effect a sympathy vote but Francesca pained face made no impact on Sophie.

‘But you did, you rejected my mum!’

And for your information my mum didn’t just throw herself at the next available man, she loved my dad too much for that.’ Looking over to Ian, who to be fair was coming to terms with a daughter in his life quite well. ‘Oh no, she met her responsibility and concentrated her whole life on me. In fact if I hadn’t set her up with Bill she would have never had another man cluttering up her life.’ Sophie intercepted the next blow from ever leaving Francesca’s lips ‘and for your information he didn’t leaver her by choice… she paused for effect and for her grandmother’s one sided thoughts to catch up ‘He died!’ I didn’t tell Ian that either. Gasps were let out as the gut punch made impact. ‘Bill was a proper dad, he thought of me, of mum, of us! You have a lot to live up to and a lot to make up for if you want to be any part of my life.’

She turned to me as if I was the child and she the parent who had to tell of the hardship of life. ‘He has to be part of it mum, he exists now!’ I knew what she ment, for a long time now she had thought of him as this mythical character, a one sided person who lived in a story that I told her when she asked me too. I had to sever a little of the umbilical cord that held us together. Another frightening snip towards not needing me for her life support but just for advice, whether she took it or not was now her decision alone.

‘The thing is I have to make up my mind what I want from our relationships.’ My eyes and ears rang out with her word structure. ‘You see I have a little brother and we all come as a package.’ My heart pounded with their meaning- this I was not prepared for.

There was a kafuffle going on at the door again. I heard Henry’s little voice and a mellow humoured voice full of apologies over not being able to keep the little fellow any longer from his mum. Henry hugged me and peaking from beneath my arm he asked a simplistic question of Ian.

‘Are you going to be my new daddy? My daddy left me. He went over the rainbow to heaven. He can see me but he won’t come back. I miss flying my kite.’

What a mess my life is, I looked down with my burning eyes.

‘Sorry mum but you’re no good at kite flying. Dad said you’re better at dancing like the kite than flying one. But that was our secret.’

He embarrassingly buried his head in my chest while a rally of giggles rang out.

‘How are you mum, he muffled.’

‘I’m fine and dandy I whispered in his ear.’ He giggled his comfort giggle.

‘Well we have to go,’ Sophie looked at me coming over to cuddle us.’ I suggest you stay and have a well earned rest mum. You and Ian can thrash out how you feel but my mind will not change. He can bring you back home tomorrow and then we could get to know each other. We need help with getting ready for Christmas at least he could do is help me with that! But I don’t want to see you gran until I get to know my dad on my own’. Then down at her aunty Zara ‘and if you don’t mind I’ll give you a call when I’ve got my head around it all.’

David came in his face had a satisfied look about it with admiration. As Sophie bent down to kiss me goodbye she whispered.

‘How did I do mum? David was listening in on the phone so he could make sure we were ok. It was his idea for you to stay so you could talk about it all. Will you be OK?’

‘I’ll be fine and dandy.’

As they walked out the door though I wasn’t so sure, I was tired, in pain and had to explain/defend my life to people who I didn’t know anymore.

 My life was really shitty!

Parallel Lives

I do love a good start to a morning when the teenager in your life just grunts at you and dismisses you as one of the low life’s in their life that have to be tolerated. I stand slightly amused by the angst of teenagisum. Their new place in the world is uncomfortable, building into a fever pitch of anger the perpetrator unsure to why this boiling feeling is erupting, so it must be mums fault.

Lost books and fights with hair, just too much to keep hold of her sanity finally it all fell in tears and then came the frustration stage of self pity. I breathe a calming intake of patience and we make it to the car. I wanted to hug her but was afraid of the prickles that had been sharpened on that self pity. Henry shouted his love for her as she made her way to school and as she turned and smiled her humanity came back and sunshine hit her face. We seized our opportunity and ran, Henry needed a hug and so did I.

All the balance of life came back and we made it to the playground to line up. Just as I was getting a grasp on the day Henry got knocked over and ripped his trousers. He began to scream for England with the enthusiasm of an Olympic hopeful. He hates wearing other people’s clothes so it wasn’t very helpful when the Teachers Assistant came striding over and with authority told Henry, he will have to go and find a pair out of the spare clothes box. Henry’s horrified expression brought out the mother in me and I stared at the TA in that universal motherly way and she backed off. Luckily I had a couple of pairs of trousers I was bringing to the school that were getting a little small for Henry so disaster was averted and he went in, being kissed by his latest girlfriends.

My day carried on in this vein and by pickup time I was in no mood to think what I should cook for the evening meal so hurrying off to the supermarket to pick out what we fancied, I braced myself for the arguments it was about to cause. But to my astonishment they were talking, chatting, laughing and agreeing what they would have to eat. A flood of friends and acquaintances stopped and chatted and by checkout I was refreshed from my topsy tervy day.

The children had loaded everything onto the conveyer belt and I noticed the few additions, they looked at me pleading with those eyes that pull at your heart and taking full advantage of my momentary weakness, Henry ran off to get desert. Sophie’s eyes danced at mine and she offered to go and see what he wanted and not to worry she would make sure it didn’t cost too much.

Absentmindedly I looked up along the rows of shoppers unloading their trolleys and loading their bags with the rhythm that it causes, when I noticed a face looking back at me. Instantly I coloured at the intent gaze I was receiving and I knew I should know the face but could not place it.

Time stood in limbo as my mind filtered my history the assistant chatted as I searched my memory banks for the place or name the face belonged to but I just couldn’t place it. I paid for the shopping and turned to leave perturbed by the stare that followed me. Against my will I looked up and met those eyes that looked intently and instantly it dragged my memory to a parallel universe of my life. Two lives that once had been so close and that shared so much together now live totally separately. I looked across at what could have been my destiny. I never really understood why our marriage failed.

As the children come over Henry asks if he has to take back desert beings I had finished paying for the shopping. I smile down at the little fellow and I give him some money to go on self service. Forgetting the edge of frayed younger me that man had caused I brought myself back to my parallel universe, my now reality. Skipping and dancing Henry went with the money and with his sisters help paid and picked up the change running back to me with his accomplishment.

I could feel those eyes follow our every move, unnerved I checked my appearance in the window, not a great look when meeting your ex. But as we tumbled out of the store I had forgotten the other me that other life and we danced and smiled as sweets were held aloft and shopping bundled in the car. The children settled in their seats reading their magazines as I took the trolley back, thinking of the wine I had waiting nicely chilled and the book that I promised I would make time for. Friday night was going to be my night when an old gentleman pushed his trolley into my ankle that then hit the screw that impaled my leg onto the side of the trolley shelter.

His strength my flesh that impact. I stood there leg suspended on a two inch piece of metal wondering what I should do, feeling slightly sick. Children, dogs, book wine came tumbling down on me and the tears began to fall a small but significant ‘bugger’ left my lips and danced on the chilly Christmas air just as the charity organ began to play ‘We Wish You A Merry Christmas’.

A deep and hefty sigh mingled with my resolve and when I looked up to the voice that had indignation and asked me none too politely to move.

‘I can’t you have just clamped my leg to the screw’

Sore the blood bubbled, popped and spilled down my leg. I hadn’t eaten all day and I began to swoon. I’m a bit of “a woose” when it comes to blood anyhow. A face older than I remembered and sadder in the eyes, looked attentively into mine. So there I was impaled as our parallel lives collided into one again. A vortex of emotions flashbacks of happenings that had been my reality but felt like a whole different universe now and unrecognizable to the life I now lead.

As he held my leg gently he organised someone to ring for an ambulance, I could hear his voice, calming, gentle not like it was the last rime I heard it. I looked around at the bubbled and floating faces and found a friend who immediately came to my side. Our eyes locked helping me to focus on my reality pushing the fuzzy mixture of thought and wondering away.

‘Carol could you take the children and ice-cream out of the car and keep them safe?’

‘Will do’ she smiled ‘I’ll keep the ice-cream and the children safe.’ She quickly scanned the scene assessing and taking in what needed to be done with her efficient and caring way that comes so easily to her.

‘I’ll ring David and he can pick them up and I’ll come with you.’ We could hear the siren and she made her way to the children so they wouldn’t panic.

Ian looked at me and the years fell away crossing the parallels making one life sphere. Time, space, life, how strange it all is I thought as the paramedic pumped me full of pain relief that gave my mind more clouds of fluffy haze. They had me wrapped up and seated in their stretcher thing before I realised that my foot was free. My mouth muscles refused to work and I had to think how to speak as Henry asked what was happening. A picture of his worried face freeze framed. He had seen this scene before when his dad had died of a heart attack not even a year ago.

‘Henry they gave me wibbly wobbly medicine so they could take my foot off’ He screamed

‘Off the wire silly’ Sophie explained

‘You look like daddy, mummy’ my stomach lurched.

‘She’s just had an accident Henry; I promise she’ll be fine now. Let the paramedics take her so they can x-ray her foot then she can have a plaster on like the one they put on Izzy. Then she can come home’ Carol explained while holding his hand.

‘What to day?’

‘Maybe tomorrow, that means you will have to have a sleep over with Izzy. That revived him and his worry melted away into an excited adventure (he had never had a sleep over).

Sophie weakly smiled across at me not daring to come for a hug as she knew I would break down and cry. Ian went over to her and they talked. She nodded several times and looked down at me, wide eyed and sympathetic and blew me a kiss and then Carol took the children away so their backs were turned as they put me into the ambulance.

Slight panic (which was all I could muster with the drugs they had given me) as I realised I was on my own when Ian jumped into the ambulance too. I didn’t know which was the worst, being on my own or joined by the ex-husband of fifteen years ago that had never met his daughter and didn’t know she existed. My life was a bit of a shit really.

After all the kafuffle of x-rays doctors and such a splint was put on until the swelling had gone down and a more permanent plaster could be applied. The screw had chipped the bone a little and because it was on the Lateral Malleolus (the sticky out bit of the outside of my ankle) no weight could be put on it as the screw had acted a little like a chisel.

Like I said- my life is a little bit of a shit! A week till Christmas and the kids presents to buy and I’m going to be stuck in plaster. Now I was being held captive by my ex-husband who promptly took me to his home. He now lived five miles from my house. He had sussed that Sophie was his; hardly surprising as she resembled me very little and was a dead ringer for Ian’s little Sister and his mother.

He sat me down in his comfy sofa and elevated my leg as advised by the doctors and asked if I would like a coffee, beings I could not drink with the pain killers  I accepted but felt that I could have done with a little balmy juice and thought of the wine chilling in my fridge. Forlorn I looked around and on a wall a collage of faces hung prominent and proud taking up most of the wall with a beautiful frame of glass and enamel. Before I could focus on it more Ian strode in with coffee for me and a whisky and coffee for him. Like I keep saying, my life is Shit! I could have done with that whisky!

He talked after he downed the whisky giving me time to collect my thoughts and I was grateful of it. He slowly took me through his life and explained about the picture that had won many awards and many commissions for his work. He was and always had been an exceptional photographer.

All the women he had ever had a relationship with were versions of me not just in looks but in likes and thinking. Was he trying on every version of myself until he found the combination that he enjoyed…… liked……. Needed……..Loved? He still hadn’t found her his eyes were too sad for that to be true. As I looked through all the pictures it was amazing how different and yet almost the same people can look. We had been consumed by this idea when young and in-love. The idea that we are not as unique as we like to think our selves that there are copies of us all over the world or the universe. This idea wrapped around us, consumed us and in the end destroyed us. I had found him in bed, in our perfect home with one such look alike.

Those raw feelings floated around me but didn’t get inside me as they once had. They glided over my skin prickled the surface then abated. He was as gently as he possible could have been under the circumstances, trying to explain his behaviour that night. It was all so insignificant to me, what had been had been what it had ment to me no longer was and his life no longer my concern. Why he thought it was, dumbfounded me a little. But it gave me time to think through the ramifications for Sophie and the knock on effect for Henry. Sophie was intelligent and articulate and knew the truth as I had lived it and saw it. I’m not sure he would survive her altercations on the subject. Her debating and confrontation technique had me running for shelter and I was use to her barrage of self-truths. His reasoning of his search for his art would be used against him and knowing that soon the meeting I most feared was upon me I was not going to give him any shield to protect himself with or advice to help him through it.

He then broached the subject of Sophie and why I had not told him about her. With my eyebrows raised in disbelief I reminded him of the day I walked in our home and immediately knew something was wrong. I spared him no detail that his mind had forgotten. I took him through the events through my eyes and thoughts. How I grappled with the deceit from the one person who I thought I could trust and how the word love had become a farce for me.

To his credit he listened with intent and never interrupted, focusing on his hands rubbing his wedding ring that he still wore on his tallest finger on his right hand. When asked I told him what had happened when I went to see his mother when I found out I was pregnant to let her know and to find out where he had gone. How, before I could broach the subject she had explained it was all for the best our break up and never gave me time to explain the true reason for my visit. How after that day of immense hurt I decided they had given up all rights of knowing Sophie. I thought I had been loved as a member of their family and found out that I had only been tolerated. His face was bleak and ashen with the other side of events he had never contemplated before of hurts never imagined. And as I looked down at my vibrating phone the message came ‘on my way x’

I knew he would eventually ask to see her and I didn’t want a preconceived meeting with time to make the best impression for her. He looked at my hand then on to my mobile and then at me.

‘Did you need to ring them to tell them how it went?’

‘I’ve text already, they know!’

Noises and laughter outside the back door as it was flung open I could hear bags of shopping and for the first time considered if he was living with someone, had children. Women’s voices came out to greet him and he strode out to meet them.

I looked around the house, a women’s influence danced around but was not in-control. Again it was spookily similar to my tastes. Of all the people I though who would walk into the room I was not prepared for his mum and his sister. His sister was beaming and came over and sat next to me and I could not get over the similarity of my little girl staring back at me as a grown woman. Then as I looked up the grown woman turned into a pensioners face. To say it freaked me out was a little of an understatement and just as I caught my breath a knock at the door announced the arrival of Sophie. Oh this was going to be fun!

Falling off the Tandem

He meant it as a joke I know he did but I’d had enough of it always being at my expense. His idle lip service crazed me and it still does, though these days I don’t take it with a pinch of salt or shrug it off. That constant “what’s he like” face and my eyes rolling to the heaven, took a toll on me and I don’t want to pay that price again.

Looking back that evening was just like any other, no worse, and he wasn’t a bad man, an ok farther but I was trapped in a role I’ didn’t want to play for the rest of my life. I tried to tell him how bad I was feeling but he just laughed it off as light hearted banter. I saw red and instead of cooling off, it bubbled over and in a week I’d left.

I denied the guilt I felt. Leaving just before Christmas was hard on the children and it took a long time for them and me to come to terms with it all. Financially it took a while too; starting at the bottom is always hard, even harder at thirty eight. Motherhood had stripped me of personality, and it seemed employability; eventually though, we made it and now my children were back here living with me. Their farther now puts every effort into fatherhood that I find engaging but rankles me beyond distraction, a form of torture; why practice what I had preached for so long, then not let me be part of it?

 I had spent so many years yearning for us to reap the benefits of our hard labour; him working all the hours and me with the children on my own. Our family and financial outlook had looked great from an outsider’s point of view but on the inside, for me was empty and hollow. Though looking back at it from the outside, Hugh was still a boy even at forty, cocooned as he was from family life, by me.

We’ve moved on and can now talk rather than shout with that animosity we both had over the pain we had received from each other. The children are going from strength to strength. So here I was wondering why on earth I was pounding his head into the washing machine, metaphorically speaking. It was his turn to have the children; which is one of the benefits of splitting up that I enjoy the best, he has just decided that he’s going away. Oh he’s sorry it’s short notice. I slam the door on the washing machine. He does deserve to go away, he looked tired the last time I saw him. There I go again; it’s none of my business or doing any longer. I storm upstairs. Why the hell didn’t he do that when we were together? Going out was only thought of when he was not tired and didn’t have to go to work the next day, so as a consequence we never went out. Picking up my mobile I decide to ring him and tell him I can’t have the children. I was expecting the answer machine and was taken a back when his velvet gravel of deep sexiness came vibrating through¸ again hitting my sensual nerve.

‘Oh! Er, was just getting back to you about this weekend. Sorry I can’t have the children I’m away.’ Letting go was intense, a new experience I was not sure I was ready for.

‘Oh where are you off to?’

‘I don’t think that’s any of your business any longer’ I curtly replied.

‘I was just, oh never mind, I’ll make other arrangements’

‘Ok, then they’ll be ready at the usual time, Ok?’

‘Ya, fine’

I came off the phone in even more of a bad mood. That was such a bitchy thing to do I thought, I had no plans but I hate being taken for granted and just recently he had started to treat me as though we were married still. No it was the right thing to do, I strengthened my resolve. I so wanted to know what was going to happen to Tim and Eve and who was going to look after them. They needed some prime time with their Dad. Since leaving them that Christmas two years ago my guilt found it hard to not know every detail of their welfare. I also wondered (with a degree of jealousy) where was he off to and with whom?

‘Oh god!’ I threw the mobile on the bed. ‘Shit’. Now I’d have to go some where. Not one of my strengths lying, Hugh would sense my dishonesty. He’d ask the children and if they didn’t know he would get suspicious. I tell my kids everything, big mistake, honesty, definitely not the best policy in these situations.

Why should it matter to me any how if Hugh thought I was lying it was my weekend free from the 24/7 shift of motherhood. Surely that month on his own with the children should have made him more respectful of the time consuming nature of children. Guilt, my guilt I put on myself because I’m a martyr, that’s what Grant would say but I’m just living up to what others expect of me. Lord what a rock and a hard place to get myself into.

I rang the only hotel that I could think of. As it turned out they only had a four poster left, due to a soon to be wed couple cancelling. If that was not ironic enough it was the same hotel we stayed at for our honeymoon. I had wanted to stay in the four-poster but we couldn’t afford it or Hugh didn’t want to waste our money, better things to do with our lives he had said, I believed him but at the time he was the best thing I could spend my time and money on.

Now look at me, talk about Billy no Mates, no one to go with or wanted to go with, how life had changed! The strange thing is I didn’t feel weird about it, quite excited really. Now that was wired!

I rang Pip knowing she would put me straight, if she thought it was a bitchy thing to do I would hear it in her stuttered answer. Pip was the best sound board I had ever found in my life. She had this ripple in her voice that would instantly say are you sure about that, her face an even better indicator of her feelings. So I arranged a coffee conference so I could see that all telling face, a truthful insight to the rights and wrongs of weekend visitations.

Our conferences were always at the best farm shop in the county, where the surroundings were calming with perfect coffee and the best selection of cakes that could be had, which made life a better place for a short time. The word “conference” meant urgent but sounded professional and constructive so if we were overheard by colleagues they would think that we were beavering away. To my relief Pip was free at 11.30 for an early lunch. So with the washing out and the house tidy, paperwork completed I joyfully went off to the reckoning.

As I walked in Pip beckoned me over having got the coffees in and we both decided to give the cakes a miss due to swimwear season that will soon be upon us. Time was short so I told all and I could see that I was right. Hugh had to stop behaving as my husband and a new form of respect had to be found. Out of the last month he had not had or seen the children (mostly because of work) and the only weekend he had off he was going to be on his own.

‘Typical, Stan couldn’t see why Beth had been so upset when he had let her down last week. ’ Pip fumed. ‘It’s not easy being a stepmother with no children of your own’

“Stan the man” (which was my nick name for him) had been part of Pips life for the last seven years. He had lulled her into a false sense of security of a relationship of two equals, sole mates a social up-lift to Pips shy side and in the main they worked well together. Stan was more of a child though; as with most men their rufty tufty, ‘deal with it’ image that they gave off, was a social façade.

‘I was glad though; don’t get me wrong Beth is so sweet and if you could choose a daughter it would be her for me. But I just couldn’t cope with those two rubbing up each other the wrong way all weekend again. I need a rest from confrontation; I get enough of it at work. Stan’s a typical man just thinks he can do what he wants because he works full time, where as his ex-wife is only part time. Therefore she has the time and can do everything else; well you know the reshow it goes.

‘Ali, why have you booked that Hotel?’

I shrugged at her obvious and worried question.

‘You have to stop beating yourself up about the breakup you know.’

I was stunned; I was way over it, being divorced now for nearly two years. But her perception in my experience was always spot on. She had seen what I had not, had known what I could not even try to comprehend. Was booking the hotel a Freudian slip of a yearning to go back and start again. I missed the man I married not the one he had become. Or was it I yearned like a school girl for the man and the marriage I thought I would have?

I smiled trying to hide the realisation I had just come to. Pip knew though, I could see it in her eyes and as she bent her head to break our gaze I was grateful. As ever, my perceptive friend left it to me to come to terms with my denied reality. Love and attraction could never be switched off like you do a tap, perhaps I would ever drip for the thought of love and yearn always for the physical reaction I had for that one mans voice and touch. Talk about a no brainer.

This thought made me determined to find a way of getting over this physical hurdle and to find a place to put the love, so no more harm was done to my fragile and broken heart. I was never going to get answers to why Hugh could not act around me as he did with the children on his own and to why he found me a woman to rib and ridicule, than to talk to and enjoy the company of. This week end was the beginning of a new way to see and to treat myself.

As always a woman starts with her wardrobe and a new haircut. The children enjoyed it and excitedly were telling Hugh as I came down stairs. But because I had inconvenienced him, he didn’t look up and his annoyance vibrated through the air. I didn’t need his approval and inwardly I enjoyed the release of the ties I had been bound by him for so long.

Purposely I had dressed to kill. My curvy figure was hugged by the sensuous material like no other I had ever had; actually I had not possessed a dress, a frivolity I had denied myself by the financial constraints I had lived under for the whole of my married life. He could be under no illusion that this weekend I was off the leash of motherhood and a real woman again. I found it didn’t matter whether he looked or not, I was me, ish, the new me anyhow!

As they got into the car, I locked the front door and got into mine. I was shaking and felt nervous and was not sure entirely why. A weekend on your own to read while drinking pimms without thinking what on earth I had to shop for or prepare or anyone to clean up after was slightly different to having an affair with some gorgeous hunk. But beings I was dressed for it, was my body preparing for the excitement? Well I thought it had a bloody long time waiting, not going to happen. A good romantic novel while drinking pimms was all that was going to happen. I laughed at myself as I caught Hugh’s eyes. Now what was his problem!! They were his children and his responsibilities too, not just mine. It was his weekend and my wind down time, which was long over due and much needed.

My phone rattled on the dashboard and I opened the text before I looked at the number the words hit me and I could feel the blood rush out of the wound. “Will stop all maintenance. You obviously don’t need it!” as I read the stunted words a wave of sadness stung my eyes, was I never to have any relinquished guilt of my own enjoyment? Was this reaction due to the dress or that I could afford to go away. I looked up and out of the windscreen to the man I thought needed a rest and would have given anything but my sole to and saw a hard edge to his features which I knew from experience meant that he thought he was on the side of righteousness and beyond all reproach.

I could have crumpled and run back into the house and cried but this was a new beginning for me and sometimes new beginnings were uncomfortable and painful so get used to it! I told myself turned the key and drove the hour to the five star hotel.

I had blanked my feelings by singing loudly to Curtis Stigers whose pure voice was for me, pure sex. After sex came the elation of calmness and once again I was ready to enjoy the indulgence.

I went to the reception feeling slightly silly and very alone. I signed for the honeymoon suite and took the key while glances were avoided expertly by the receptionist; which made me want to giggle as an embarrassed reaction to my outlandish behaviour but I managed to stifle it. I asked if I could have a jug of pimms sent to my room with that and time to read a good book, I found the embarrassment and the looks were worth it!